When I'm in New York, I mostly schedule my life so that I can walk everywhere. Today I had to take the subway so I wanted something to read and grabbed Dot Dot Dot (issue 11), an art journal I'd picked up at Dexter Sinister, a terrific little bookshop that's open Saturdays on Ludlow Street, a year or so ago. What a fantastic object I'd allowed to languish, and how I've despaired at creating my own peril! Mostly, I'm delighted that I discovered it today on an otherwise grimly overcast, muggy wall-to-wall work day. There's too much emphasis on criticism by and about dudes for my taste, but the essay on The Fall's Mark E. Smith is essential reading (related: Badly Drawn Boy told a memorable story at "Upstairs at the Square" about encountering him in Manchester as a teenager), as is the entire issue, lest you miss one of the sharp little details, as in comparing the graphic design of The Sex Pistols to early avant-garde journal Blast, the aggressive cover design of which was made possible by a "chance encounter with an alcoholic ex-printer." The writing and editing is top-notch and Dot Dot Dot overall meets my true standard of excellence: I can hardly bear to part with it, but will gladly give it to a friend as soon as possible.